


so good, so good, so good for you

by binchmarner



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Communication, Consensual Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Fluff, Healthy Relationships, Kink Exploration, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Praise Kink, Quinn Hughes does Research, Safe Sane and Consensual, Smut, Subspace, mention of shibari
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:49:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21604246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/binchmarner/pseuds/binchmarner
Summary: Quinn and Brady learn about a world of kink with open and honest communication.And sex. Lots of sex.
Relationships: Quinn Hughes/Brady Tkachuk
Comments: 19
Kudos: 136





	so good, so good, so good for you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lotts (LottieAnna)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LottieAnna/gifts).

> this idea has been in my head for about seventy bajillion years, and i finally decided to finish the first draft i had in my docs. thank you chuck for being so awesome and talking me through it!!!
> 
> title of story is based off of leslie odom jr.'s cover of [good for you](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_wSL0jhkx3U).

So it happens like this.

Quinn and Brady are on their bed, lazily making out, like they do every morning where they have time to waste during the offseason. Quinn’s thumbing at Brady’s nipples, making them stiff and sensitive, and he kisses a line down to his neck right below his ear, and Brady just _whines._

Quinn knows before Brady even says it that he’s close, from the hitched breaths and the way he’s just grinding against Quinn’s thigh.

“Quinn. Gonna come, fuck,” Brady says, eyes squeezed shut. Quinn pulls back from the mark he’s making high on Brady’s neck, and he can see the pout on Brady’s face already.

“Wait,” is all Quinn says, quiet but demanding.

And Brady does.

“Please, Quinny,” Brady says quietly, flushing dark when Quinn grins.

“Please what, Brady?” Quinn says, grinning wider when Brady groans, leaning in to try and kiss Quinn again. Quinn pulls away, just out of reach of Brady’s lips.

“Come on I––kiss me, please,” Brady says, and god, his breath is already shaky. 

“I’ve already been doing that. I think you want,” Quinn snakes his hand down Brady’s chest, down his stomach, and squeezes his dick through his sweats. “something else.”

Brady gasps and grinds into Quinn’s hand, dropping his forehead to Quinn’s shoulder. “Fuck, I…”

“Stop, Brady. Use your words,” Quinn says lightly, rubbing gently to create a little friction against Brady’s dick. 

“What do you think the boys would say if they saw you like this?” Quinn says lightly, “Big, strong, Brady Tkachuk whimpering under my touch.”

“Fuck, _Quinn._” Brady gasps. 

“Something tells me you like this,” Quinn says, a little mean with how gleeful he is when Brady nods. The flush on Brady’s face has travelled down his neck and to his chest and Quinn just _wants._

“Make me come, Quinn, please,” Brady says, biting his lip. Quinn drags in a breath and nods.

“That’s all you had to say, baby,” Quinn says, pushing his palm more against Brady’s cock in his sweats. There’s a spot of precome seeping through the soft fabric, a consequence of sleeping without boxers, and a rush of arousal courses through Quinn like electricity knowing that he’s doing this to Brady. He builds up a rhythm with his hand and then leans in, nipping and sucking at Brady’s neck and he bites back a whine at a pitch Quinn didn’t even know Brady could make. 

“Quinn, please,” Brady says, rolling his hips against Quinn’s hand. Quinn squeezes his hand and Brady gasps, gripping Quinn’s hips.

“Come on sweetheart. Just lay there and take it,” Quinn says, leaning in to kiss him.

“No, no, want to––can I?” Brady asks, his eyes squeezed shut, and it takes Quinn a second to realize that Brady’s asking…

“Are you asking for permission to come?” Quinn asks, an eyebrow raised. He’s so hard that he hurts but he wants to take care of Brady first, see this through. 

“Yeah, fuck, yeah I am,” Brady nods, covering his eyes. “Fuck, Quinny, can I?”

“Shit, yeah, baby, yeah you can,” Quinn says, gripping the outline of Brady’s cock through his sweats and jerking faster. “C’mon, come for me.”

Brady’s breathing gets shakier and shakier, and it takes a couple awkward strokes before Brady stills and Quinn feels the fabric become wet and sticky, though he barely notices it because he’s enraptured with Brady’s face, coloring a dark red. The flush travels down his chest and below his tank top and it’s truly devastating to Quinn personally. 

Quinn stuffs his hand in his boxers, jerking himself off fast and tight to the thought of Brady’s face: his eyes squeezed shut, his teeth set deep in his lower lip, like he’s trying his damn hardest to make sure he doesn’t come until Quinn says to. He looks up, making eye contact with Brady, who’s looking at him like he hung the moon, however sleepily he may be. He lasts about a handful of strokes before coming over his fist. 

“Fuck,” Quinn says, reaching over to grab a couple tissues to wipe his hand off, and by the time he rolls back over, Brady’s already half asleep, which.

Gross.

“Nope, no. We’re showering,” Quinn says, pulling the covers off. “Come on.”

“_No._” Brady drags out the _o_ so it’s about three vowels too long.

Quinn rolls his eyes. “If you get in the shower with me, I’ll blow you.”

Quinn finds it funny how awake Brady suddenly is. 

\---

“Debrief,” Quinn says, raising an eyebrow when Brady groans.

“You trapped me in the shower to debrief under the promise of a blowjob. Man, that’s cold,” Brady says, and Quinn snorts.

“I can turn the water hotter if it’s too cold,” Quinn deadpans, and giggles when Brady squeezes Quinn’s sides. “But no seriously, debrief.”

“Debrief,” Brady says, grabbing the bar of soap and scrubbing over Quinn’s arms. Quinn hums, reaching up to press a kiss to Brady’s jaw. 

“So,” he starts. “You like to be told things.”

“Yeah,” Brady says, taking Quinn’s hand and washing over it a couple more times than is probably necessary. “I guess.”

“Was that okay? Everything that I did?” Quinn asks, furrowing his brows. He takes the bar of soap from Brady’s hands and puts it down, looking at him. Brady’s not meeting his eyes, and his cheeks are flushed darker than they normally would be from the shower. “Brady, it’s okay if you liked it.”

“Yeah, I do,” Brady says, making eye contact with Quinn. “I really fucking liked it, even though I came in my pants like a dweeb.”

“First off,” Quinn catches Brady’s lips in a kiss. “You’re always going to be a dweeb, but coming in your pants because you were listening to what I told you? That was so incredibly hot. Secondly, I’d be down to do it again.”

Brady’s eyes widen, his skin pink from the water and his never ending blush, making the purple red of the hickey stick out. God, Quinn thinks he’s so beautiful.

“Really?” Brady asks, his voice quiet and hopeful. 

Quinn nods. “Yeah, ‘course. We should work on a safe word. Stoplights okay?”

Brady nods. Quinn smiles, leaning up to kiss him gently. “Is there anything else you wanna tell me?”

“I like being like, held down,” Brady says, glancing away. “You know. It doesn’t necessarily have to be tied up but knowing I can’t move and that you’re the one doing it is, uh––”

Quinn glances down, and Brady’s half hard, straining to keep himself from grinding up against Quinn. 

“Ask for what you want, Brady,” Quinn says, his voice silky smooth like caramel. Brady whines, and it makes a rush of arousal course though Quinn.

“Can I grind on you, please?” Brady begs. Quinn gets his hands on Brady’s hips, pulling him close to him and rolling their hips slowly together.

“Just talking about it gets you off, huh?” Quinn asks, smirking as Brady lets out a punched out gasp.

“The talking––helps,” he says, his hips jerking up to meet Quinn’s. “It’s a lot. It’s good… it’s just a lot.”

Quinn snakes his hands around so he’s gripping Brady’s ass and grinds up against him. “It’s going to take you no time at all to finish, is it?”

Brady’s eyes are shut tight as he shakes his head. “No, no it isn’t.” 

Quinn smirks, kissing across Brady’s collarbone and making marks as he goes. “God, you’re going to get all dirty again.”

“Yeah.” Brady’s voice is high and breathy, and he already sounds on the knife’s edge of orgasm. 

God, if this entire thing isn’t the hottest thing Quinn has ever done. The heat of arousal, the funny, familiar feeling is already curled deep in his stomach, and he knows that Brady can’t be far off.

“Can I? Please?” Brady asks, his breath catching as Quinn thrusts up against him.

“Full sentence, Brady,” Quinn says, smirking as Brady groans, his chest now a brilliant red along with his face and neck. 

“Fuck you, oh god. Can I come, please?” he asks. 

“Yeah, come for me, baby,” Quinn says, and Brady moans, louder than he’d had in bed as he comes against the cut of Quinn’s hip. Quinn shudders, grinding once, twice, before coming against Brady’s abs. 

It takes them a moment to catch their breaths before either says anything.

“Yeah, yeah this’ll work.” Quinn nods.

\---

The sex is _amazing_ now. 

Just a little bit of spice changes so much in the bedroom, but…

Quinn’s not talked about the elephant in the room.

Brady had said three things. The dirty talk (which Quinn knew Brady liked from day one), being told what to do (which was a surprise, but a welcome one), and…

Being held down.

They just…

Haven’t addressed it. Quinn’s not opposed to it. He knows how to make a knot, or rather, go on fucking YouTube on private mode and learn. He also learns that you could buy cuffs instead, but Quinn’s sort of afraid Brady’ll break those.

So he buys soft but durable rope that he reads is often used for a BDSM art of shibari (which he is going to have to look into, because the thought of Brady looking like that, pretty and wrapped up for him…) and waits.

They’re having dinner, their favorite takeout with a movie from Disney+ on the tv when Quinn brings it up.

“Debrief,” he says, tucking his feet under Brady’s thighs. 

Brady, who’s in the middle of eating egg noodles looks almost comical––his eyes wide and his mouth full of noodles. He looks like a character from those animes Taryn watches. Brady furrows his brows, letting the excess noodles fall into his bowl. “Did we have sex? Did I miss it? Was I good?”

“No, no. I just wanted to like, bring something up.” Quinn’s cheeks flush. “About something you said a couple of days ago.”

“Whatever it was, Matt broke it,” Brady says immediately, which, he’s going to have to have a _talk_ because if he broke something in their house…

“No, in our last shower debrief,” Quinn says. “You said a couple of things you liked.”

“Oh, are we having this conversation now? In front of my salad?” Brady asks, gesturing to his lo mein. 

“First of all, it’s Chinese food. Second of all,” Quinn looks over at his backpack resting by the bookcase. “Think of it like… a present.”

“A sexy present?” Brady waggles his eyebrows, and Quinn regrets ever becoming billet brothers with this man.

“In a way.” Quinn rolls his eyes, getting up to get his bag. “You mentioned you liked being pinned down, and I’m not really strong enough to pin you down and have you stay there, and you mentioned being tied up so––”

“Did you buy rope?” Brady sets his bowl on the table. His voice is quiet and for a second, Quinn’s afraid he did the wrong thing. He pulls out the bamboo rope, dyed blue and green because like hell was he going to bring Sens colors in his bed. 

And the idea of tying Brady up in Canucks colors is… something to think about later.

One thing at a time, Hughes.

“Yeah. And I learned how to tie rope too. The right way, because if we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it so you don’t get hurt.” He tosses the skein of rope on Brady’s lap. “It’s soft, right?”

“Oh, yeah, fuck,” Brady says. “You really did all this for me?”

“Well, I did this for us, but yeah,” Quinn says, his cheeks turning a blotchy red. “So we can continue watching _Go Figure_ or we can do something a little more fun.”

“What’d you have in mind?” Brady asks.

“I was thinking something along the lines of tying you to the bed and riding you until I come, making you wait until after I get off to come.” Quinn smirks when he whimpers. “That sound good, Brady?”

Brady’s eyes darken, and he stands up immediately. “Fuck, yeah.”

“Thought this was your favorite movie,” Quinn teases, stepping forward to crowd into Brady’s space. 

“Found something better to do.” Brady shrugs, and Quinn can see through his facade like glass. 

“I’ll clean, you get undressed and get on the bed,” Quinn says simply, and smiles when Brady nods. He drags Brady down for a kiss that turns desperate in no time at all. Quinn pulls away far too quickly for either of their liking, but they’ve got something to do. “Bed,” he says, and Brady’s pupils are so big, there almost isn’t any color around them.

“Yeah, yes sir, yeah,” Brady says, and that’s…

New, and exciting, and something to debrief.

“Go.”

Quinn takes his time cleaning the takeout containers, putting away leftovers and getting a pair of scissors; by the time he’s in their room, he can see Brady laying down on the bed, a bottle of lube and the skein of rope next to him. 

“God, you look gorgeous,” Quinn says from the doorway. Brady looks up. He looks gorgeous his chest flushed, his cock already half hard from waiting in anticipation. 

He walks over to the bed and kneels between Brady’s legs, smiling as he sets the scissors on the table. “Arms above your head, baby.”

Brady flushes at the pet name, and raises his hands above his head, his wrists crossed. Quinn ties them up, remembering as best as he can with Brady looking at him wide eyed like he’s waiting for Quinn’s next demand. It takes a couple tries for Quinn to calm down, making sure he’s doing everything right, but he gets it. 

“Color, baby.” Quinn pets down Brady’s arms, smiling when he shudders. 

“Green,” Brady says, smiling. 

“Good. I’m gonna open myself up, and you’re going to watch me, okay?” Quinn forms the question like a comment, though there’s always the opening for Brady to say _red_ and stop it all. 

“Yes, sir,” Brady says, his cheeks a blotchy red. Quinn steps off the bed and undresses quickly, already half hard from everything they’ve already done. He doesn’t miss how Brady eyes him up, still managing somehow to be so confident in such a vulnerable position. 

If Brady keeps this up, this is probably going to be the shortest sex Quinn has ever had. He sits back and slicks up his fingers, pushing one inside himself. He groans, throwing his head back. 

“Fuck, Brady,” he moans out. Brady pulls against the restraints, groaning when he can’t move.

“Jesus, Quinny, did you join Boy Scouts?” Brady asks. “C’mon, let me out of these, let me help.”

“Nope,” Quinn says, his voice strained. “That’s not what we agreed on. Color?”

“Green,” Brady’s voice sounds just as strained, and Quinn’s vaguely concerned that their headboard will break. He curls his finger and moans, and if he puts on a little more of a show because Brady’s tied up, that’s his business. “Green, _green,_ Quinny c’mon, please.”

Quinn pushes in a second finger, relishing in the stretch of his fingers. When he adjusts, he curls his fingers and tries to find his prostate. “God, Brady, fuck. Feels so good.”

“God, this is cruel,” Brady says, but continues with a, “green,” before Quinn can even check in. When Quinn looks, Brady’s cock is hard against his stomach and beading with precome. If Quinn wasn’t dead set on riding him, he’d blow him.

Quinn finds his prostate and gasps, pressing against it and moaning. “Oh my god, fuck.” He rides his fingers, making eye contact with Brady––he feels like he could be a little mean.

“Come on, I could do better,” Brady begs. “Let me out.”

“No, Brady. Be good.” 

And it’s like Quinn said some sort of magic word––Brady goes stiff and then relaxes immediately. Quinn takes his fingers out and crawls over to Brady. 

“You ready?” Quinn asks, waiting for Brady to nod before slicking him up. He lines himself up and sinks down slowly, letting himself adjust. “You’re going to listen, and do what I say, right?” he asks when his ass meets Brady’s hips.

Brady nods, hiding his face in his bicep. “Yeah, yes sir.”

That makes something hot zing through his body, and Quinn groans, leaning forward. “Stay still.”

“But––”

“You heard me. Stay still, Brady,” Quinn says. “I’ll tell you when you can move.”

“Yes, sir.” Brady’s voice is strained, like it’s taking all his strength to not move, and Quinn is quickly becoming drunk off the power.

Quinn kneels up so just the head of Brady’s dick is in him, and slams back down. Brady makes a choked off noise, and Quinn smirks. 

“Knew you’d like this,” he says, grinding as Brady whines. “You look like you’re ready to beg for me.”

Brady nods, quick and small, his eyes squeezed shut. Quinn lifts up and slams back down again, clenching around him, just to hear Brady gasp out a, “Please.” It doesn’t take long for Quinn to work up a rhythm with Brady, knowing he’ll be so good and wait.

“You’re doing perfectly, Brady,” Quinn says. “Just have to wait until I come.”

“If you–if you let me out, I can make you come,” Brady says, breathless. Quinn chuckles. 

“Yeah, I bet you could,” he says. “I’m not going to, though.”

“Please,” Brady begs, shaking. “I need to come.”

Quinn thinks he should at least give Brady some pity, and wraps his hand around his dick. “C’mon, give it to me good, Brady.”

Brady lets out a moan, setting a brutal pace that when Quinn moves to adjust, it hits his prostate every time.

“Oh, fuck, holy shit, Brady,” Quinn says. “I’m not gonna last.”

“Then come,” Brady begs. “Please, come. Please, please––”

The begging is what drives Quinn over the edge, coming over his fist and Brady’s abs. He gasps, coming down and Brady’s still shaking, almost in tears.

“Please, can I?” he begs. “Can I come?”

“Yeah, baby,” Quinn says, clenching as much as he can around him. “You can.”

Brady lets out a sob and comes hard in Quinn after thrusting a couple times more. Quinn takes a deep breath after coming down, laying beside Brady instead of on top of him.

He reaches up and works on untying Brady’s wrists. “Color, baby.”

“Green,” Brady says, a little far away sounding. Quinn kisses his shoulder when he finishes untying Brady’s wrists. 

“You did so well. How was that?” he asks, smiling when Brady smiles.

“That was great,” Brady says, and his eyes are glassy and he looks like he’s in a different place. Quinn read about subspace, and he thinks that this might be what the articles were talking about. 

“I’m going to go get a washcloth from the en suite, okay? I’m not leaving,” Quinn says, kissing Brady’s forehead. “You did so good, I’m so proud of you.” 

Brady hums, his eyes fluttering shut. Quinn wets a washcloth and comes back, smiling when he sees Brady struggling to stay awake. He walks back and cleans up Brady’s belly and hips, before handing him one of their many half drunk water bottles from the side table. 

He cleans himself up quickly before getting back in bed, letting Brady latch onto him like he does after sex. 

“We’re going to need to debrief later,” Quinn says, though he’s already falling asleep. 

“Later. Sleep now,” Brady says, kissing Quinn’s shoulder and well.

Quinn can do that.

**Author's Note:**

> i do have to say, doja cat's [all nighter](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1anANhrEfCc) and [addiction](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JIAEPxLllZc) were also strong contenders for the title of this story, as i listened to these three songs nonstop while writing it. 
> 
> if you want to come yell about hockies, follow me on twitter @calejuice8!


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